


The Sound

by FamousWolf, missingparentheses



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamousWolf/pseuds/FamousWolf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingparentheses/pseuds/missingparentheses
Summary: Beneath the adulation of the crowds is the subtle sound of something greater, the hum of words left unsaid.





	1. Of Resonance

The lights were as bright as they ever were in these venues, though his eyes had adjusted in the first few minutes.  Rhett could see the hundreds of smiling faces beaming up at them, and from the width of his smile alone, it was clear that Link could, too.  The sight was a stark contrast to the small crowd for whom they were accustomed to performing; the place of these hundreds and thousands of eyes was typically occupied by a camera.  Still, over the course of two months of spending their weekends on tour, Rhett had grown comfortable with the crowds, found himself loosening up and playing to responsive audiences more and more each week.  He'd grown used to the hectic travel schedule, the rushed meals, and the late nights.  He'd learned how to bring himself down from the high of performing so that he could still catch a decent night's sleep before waking up early and repeating the process that culminated in this particular experience, the experience he never got used to: the sound.  

The theater was packed, and having had its enthusiasm rewarded with an encore of one of their oldest and most loved songs, it roared.  At its foundation was the sound of eager applause.  Over that, long hoots blended with high screams, topped off with colorful streams of whistles, undoubtedly blown through fingers to gain their power.  It washed over them like the tide most nights, creeping in at their feet and climbing their legs in a slow build until they were beaming back, at the verge of laughter and disbelief.  Sometimes, though, the crowd had so much to give, that it nearly blew them backward.

This was one of those nights.

The screams were crashing into Rhett, trying to knock the wind out of him.  But from the corner of his eye, he could tell that Link was simply absorbing them.  He was grinning into the lights and raising his hands in a final farewell that was directed at no one in particular and everyone at the same time.  He turned deftly on his heels, practically bounding through his exit, soaking in the crowd's departing energy and letting it draw his shoulders back, his spine straight, his chin up.

 

"Feelin' pretty good, huh?" Rhett prodded once the dressing room door had latched closed.  Link leaned coolly against the vanity and wiped his face with a damp towel.  He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head.

It was unnecessary, but he answered anyway.  "I definitely am."

Rhett smiled and nodded, meeting Link at the counter and grabbing a towel for himself.  As he wiped away his own sweat, he stole glances at Link, privately noting the way he would narrow his eyes at his own reflection, blatantly appreciating what he saw looking back at him.

They were always quiet for this part of the night.  They did not talk about the show; they never did anymore.  In the nine weeks they'd been touring, the desire to rehash their performances had faded.  By the time they landed in Chicago, they'd accepted that whatever happened onstage was history and could not be undone.  They knew what they were supposed to do—they had rehearsed so long, spent so many hours saying the same lines, telling the same jokes, and making it all sound seamless and authentic that if mistakes were made during a performance, they saw it as no indication that they needed more work.  Mistakes were flukes that gave the shows more character.  They were simply not worth discussing.

But on this December night, they'd have had nothing to discuss even if they’d wanted to.  This, Rhett knew, was what gave Link the devious glimmer in his eye: he knew, as did Rhett, that they'd nailed every bit, landed every punch line, hit every harmony without fail, and while he wasn't saying anything about it, Link's body could not hide his satisfaction.

There was a clear bounce to Link's step as he moved about the dressing room, changing his clothes, packing his bag, tying his boots, buttoning his olive coat.  Rhett moved more slowly, taking a customary last look over the room before following Link down a dim hallway toward the back door.  When they stepped out into the night air, Link sucked in a long breath through his teeth, turning to face Rhett with wide eyes.

"When did this happen?  I can see my breath!" he half-laughed, exhaling in Rhett's direction to prove his point.

"Temp must have gone down with the sun.  The car's right—"

"It's invigorating!  Let's walk back to the hotel," Link joked, fingers already pulling at the door handle of a black SUV.

"Yes, good idea," Rhett answered, watching Link bound into the vehicle's back seat before sliding in next to him.  "Just let Tom know when you want to get out."

Once comfortably en route, each pulled out his phone, Rhett opting to send his wife a text while Link chose a call.  With no choice but to listen to the conversation, Rhett closed his eyes and relaxed against the headrest.  It did not occur to him to feel guilty for eavesdropping; it never did.

"It was good.  It was great, actually.  It's like it only took two months to finally get everything right," Link told Christy, voice bubbling with leftover excitement.  "I know.  That's true.  It was one of the more responsive...yeah.  We're in the car...I know it.  I'm thinkin' the same thing.  He won't go for it, though.  I probably won't even ask," Link said, clearly aware of his audience.

Without opening his eyes, Rhett rolled them upward, shaking his head and smirking at the act as Link ended the call with a final ‘I love you’ and a loaded sigh.  He watched the streetlights flare and fade through his eyelids and had counted to eleven before Link started fidgeting next to him, transferring his kinetic energy through the leather of the seat.  In too good a mood not to play along, Rhett rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes.  Link looked forward, diligent to keep his mouth in an unassuming straight line.  What he could not control was the mischief in his eyes.  Rhett watched them watch the windshield as Link did all he could not to smile or meet his gaze.

"You weren't talking about me...right in front of me, were you?"

"Oh, did you hear that?  I'm so embarrassed," Link said flatly, eyes forward still, though the corners of his mouth had started to turn upward.

"What am I not going for?"

"We just thought...it was such a good show, and for once we're not taking a red-eye back home...maybe a celebration is in order."

"You thought I wouldn't want to celebrate?"

"I mean, we're not in the habit, really.  And I guess I don't know where we'd go," Link admitted, starting to deflate his own excitement.  Rhett's chest tightened at the sight of the smile slipping from Link's face, so he sat up straight and tapped their driver's shoulder.

"Tom, you know any good places for a drink and some music?" he asked.

"What kind of music you lookin' for?" the driver asked in return, glancing at Rhett in the rearview mirror.

"Karaoke," Link answered quickly, furrowing his brow when Rhett laughed.  "I mean, obviously."

"Okay," Rhett finally said, reaching for his phone again and opening its search engine.  "But small.  I'll look for—"

"No need.  I got you," Tom piped up.  "We'll just cut over to State...there's a little place, kind of off the beaten path.  Good drink specials, karaoke.  But can be kind of private, too.  You know, small."

"Tom, you're a man of few words, but I liked almost all of those," Link announced, settling back into his seat with a contented smirk.

At that point, it was settled, so Link fell fairly quiet, humming what he knew of the songs on the radio.  Rhett turned his head toward his window and closed his eyes again, forcing his arms to relax at his sides.  Their system was disrupted: this after-show drive was usually used to decompress and quiet their minds in preparation for a flight back home and a week full of work.   It gave them a place to crash together, to share their states of ground-level energy before they embarked on a fresh week-long climb to their next shows.  But as he listened to the Top 40 playing faintly over Tom's radio, he felt Link's hand touch down next to his own.  The contact was miniscule, narrowed to a millimeter of knuckle touching knuckle, and just enough for Rhett to feel the electrical storm already flickering dimly inside of Link.

 

 

 

 

"I like the color scheme."

Rhett nodded his agreement, though Link couldn't see him.  He was too busy scanning the lounge, looking over the small, dark tables for a vacancy.  A red leather bench lined the front wall, divided only by round tables and low, backless stools.  Each of the four tables was lit by a red light, flooding the whole room with an exciting, illicit atmosphere.  But within seconds of laying eyes on the place, Rhett had to laugh, glad to see that none of the bodies leaning on the table were taking themselves too seriously: they were laughing and singing along to a beautifully slurred rendition of "Man, I Feel like a Woman," sung from the stage at the far end of the room by a short, balding man clinging tightly to the microphone with one hand and a beer with the other.

Rhett had stopped by the bar opposite the tables to watch the performer, but found himself shocked back into action by a slap to his arm.  He looked back toward Link and found him pointing to a group of four people rising from a corner booth near the stage.  As the group made its way to the door, Link slinked through and lowered into the seat, claiming the table for his own.

"What timing, huh?" he asked as Rhett stepped into earshot.  Rhett raised his eyebrows and started shimmying out of his navy coat and plaid scarf, laying them on the far end of the seat, forcing Link to slide toward the inner corner.

"No kidding.  What do you want?" he asked, nodding toward the bar behind him.

"Select."

The small bar was only steps from their table, but Rhett had to weave himself through a glittery bachelorette party  to reach it.  The group was colorful and loud, but Rhett found himself staring through it, more interested in the man ducked into a private booth than the flailing, spinning women on the dance floor.  Even once he had a cold bottle in each hand, Rhett took his time, holding back to watch Link stare at the stage, resting his chin in his palm, his whole torso starting to rock and twist in place.

When the bottles clanked down onto the tabletop, he flinched.  Rhett smirked at his concentration and slid into the perpendicular bench seat.

"When was the last time we did this?" Link asked before taking a long drink of his beer.  Rhett shook his head.

"Been a while, I guess," Rhett admitted, following Link's lead with his drink, finishing a third of the bottle in a single breath.  As he set it back down, the DJ announced the next performer and a chorus of whistles rose from the far end of the bar.  A petite woman with a kind face and downward-gazing eyes rose from her barstool and made her way across the dancefloor.

"Ballad.  Something popular.  Katy Perry.  No, old school.  Jewel," Link said, eyes glued to the unassuming figure taking the stage.

"Country?  Woman scorned," Rhett countered, watching the television screen over his shoulder for the upcoming song.  A dark title screen faded in, and his eyes went wide.  Before Link could ask, "Gin and Juice" started playing, and he had to bite the insides of his lips to keep from laughing.  Rhett smiled openly, raising his bottle to cheer her on.

"I have never been so happy to be wrong," Link said, raising his own and clinking it against Rhett's.  They stayed like this, huddling together to make consistently inaccurate predictions and laughing at themselves while making every effort to celebrate each singer.  Rhett felt himself settling into the space, enjoying the clear view of the stage while hiding in plain sight; the performers kept their eyes on the screen hung from the ceiling just in front of their table, so the pair never noticed anyone looking directly at them.  

Link had toasted their evening twice, careful not to mention specifics or to otherwise jinx their streak of perfection by raising his drink to good crowds and reliable stage crews.  Rhett followed along with little hesitation, happy to join Link in his cheer, though doing so from an undeniably observational angle.  Link was fun to watch like this, all smiles and light one-liners.  He sang along with the increasingly passionate performers, wrapped his arm around Rhett's neck and made him sway in their corner seat.  Suspended in the sheer volume of the place, Rhett found himself leaning to his left, taking purposeful inhalations in hopes of catching a whiff of Link's deodorant, his sweat, his breath, anything that might satiate the benign little craving that had sparked to life in the car and was only now coming into focus.  And it was the recognition of this craving that nearly made Rhett whimper when Link pulled away, sliding toward the outside of the booth.  Rhett had to replay the past few seconds of background noise to realize that Link was responding to his name being announced through the speakers over a soft, familiar percussion.  He was shaking his head as Link took the microphone from the DJ and found centerstage, a heavy wave of nostalgia washing over him.

Rhett leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he was unconsciously drawn toward the stage.  He gave no thought to the intensity of his gaze, or what those at the bar might think of how interested he was in this show.  The notion that anyone might look his way never crossed his mind: as time and drinks passed, performers became more and more dependent on that overhead screen, hardly breaking away from it to look out into the faces of the other patrons, so he’d long grown accustomed to the safety of their booth.  But Link knew his song by heart, and no light beers were going to blur this particular memory.  He closed his eyes as the keyboard came in and found the beat by swaying his head subtly.  When his voice finally kicked in, his eyes slid open and stared right into Rhett, sending his stomach flipping with their intensity, even if it was only just for the act.  His voice was smooth and easy over the speakers, as if the song were written for him.

“Well, my friends, the time has come.  Raise the roof and have some fun…”

Link quickly looked away and found the gaze of his rambunctious audience, pointing toward the bachelorette party and earning a chorus of hoots that only fed his enthusiasm.  Rhett leaned back into the booth, teetering on a slouch as he watched Link step off the small stage and work the crowd, dancing his way along the bar to let people sing with him.  He was magnetic, and Rhett had to make a conscious effort to look away, to watch his fingers tap the tabletop for so many seconds to avoid an open, tethered stare.  When he let himself look up, the bridal party was singing the chorus as Link was taking a shot glass from the hand of the feathered future bride, downing its bright pink contents with no small pageantry before continuing his way across the floor.

It didn't take long for Link to end up back at his booth, letting his audience return to talking amongst themselves as he turned his back to them and turned his act on Rhett.  

“Everyone’s dancing their troubles away,” Link sang, drawing out his words as he lowered a hand on the edge of the table.  It did not stay there long.  As he finished the line, it shot to Rhett’s face, a finger quickly swiping the length of his chin before the arm pulled back and raised over Link’s head.  “Come join the party.  See how we play.”

Somewhere along the way, his hips had started rolling side to side, and Rhett stared straight ahead at the DJ's station, only allowing himself to enjoy this show from his peripheral vision, both longing to play into Link's performance and fearful of what doing so might bring about in the bar.  He did not mind the teasing.  He knew and loved this game, these attempts they made to drive each other to cross an invisible platonic line in public spaces.  But Rhett's pride was still fully intact, and he refused to be the one to give in on this night.  So he waited until Link sauntered back to the stage to finish his song before finally making eye contact.  And when he locked eyes with those hooded blues, he lifted his chin and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, arching a dark eyebrow and grinning, his amusement reading more and more like a dare.

  


"What's this?" Link asked, eyeing the two martini glasses that had appeared on the table.  He dropped into his seat and picked one up, sniffing it suspiciously.

"A little celebratory something," Rhett answered, lifting his own and letting Link tap their rims together, the soft clink lost in the noise of the lounge.  "Though I'm sure not nearly as fun as that shot."

"It was a pink lemonade shooter, I'm told.  I have no regrets."

Rhett smiled into his glass, sipping slowly, and waiting for a reaction to their new drink.

Link's eyes widened as he swallowed and set the glass back on the table.  "Oh, this...this tastes like Christmas!"  He paused, then added, "...trees.  This tastes like Christmas trees.  This is gin."

"This is gin," Rhett confirmed, hardly speaking the words before Link started in on a new story about the bachelorette party, regaling Rhett with embellished details of his up-close observations.  To ensure his secrets went unheard, Link slid to the junction of the leather seats, closing in on Rhett and thoughtlessly resting his knee on Rhett's own.

He was listening enough to respond here and there, but mostly, Rhett just watched.  He followed the up- and downturns of the corners of Link's lips, watched his eyes for animated squints and drawn-out blinks, and all the while, followed the heat that grew from their joined knees as it trailed up the veins in his legs and swirled into his stomach, creeping up every so often into his chest.  He was comfortable in his own silence, in the fact that he need not contribute much to keep Link talking, rambling on about people he did not know and how they reminded him of those he did.  And in a flicker of introspection, Rhett realized how lucky he was to be among the latter.

"What?" Link prodded, sitting upright, his posture playfully defensive.

Rhett shook himself out of his daze and straightened his back, mirroring Link.  "What?"

"You're just sittin' there smirking at me.  What did I say?"

"Nothing.  I'm just listening," Rhett replied, forcing himself for the second time to look away.  He felt Link rest against the seatback and looked for a distraction in the screen over his shoulder.  Scrolling along its bottom was the list of upcoming performers, and second in line, he saw his own first name.

"Hey," he said, roughly nudging Link with his elbow.  "Any chance that's a coincidence, buddy?"

Link leaned forward and peered at the screen, dramatically narrowing his eyes in thought before sinking back and announcing, "No.  I definitely did that.  That's you," before finishing his festive cocktail.  As he slid the empty glass across the table, he added, "There's a lot of people.  I didn't want you to miss your chance."

Rhett felt his face flush briefly before he regained control of his demeanor.  He sat quietly for a long moment, privately coping with the realization that he may have drunk his way beyond liquid courageousness and into the realm of sloppy forgetfulness.  But he took a deep breath and realized that the room was not yet spinning, and that he had not just forgotten every single word to his upcoming song; he simply did not yet know what song he'd be singing. He knew better than to ask: he’d never get a straight answer.  As he mulled over the possibilities, the cushion at his hip sank with Link’s weight, and before he could turn to look, Link was talking directly into his ear.

“I’m going to find the bathroom.”  

The words were unremarkable, but the breath behind them breezed over the shell of his ear, and as Link slid out from the table once again, Rhett could still feel it creeping around the back of his neck and lingering, sending a message of its own.  It turned his head, caused him to watch Link’s back as he wove through the crowd near the bar, slipping between bodies only to step into the back room, turn a corner, and disappear.  He took the music with him, the sounds of conversation and rambunctious singing fading into a distant murmur as Rhett stared at their empty glasses and touched his fingertips to his lips.  The gesture spoke of thoughts deeper than his own, than the ones bouncing from one side of his brain to the other, finding pros and dismissing cons until he felt his lips tighten into a grin, as they always did when he tried to talk himself out of a decision he’d already made.

His long legs carried him easily along the same path he’d seen Link take, and he let the noise of his surroundings rush back into him.  The room was loud and distracted and perfect for slipping out of unnoticed.  He found the bathroom door, and waited against the nearest wall, his stomach warm and tight with anticipation.  But even in his excitement, he was careful: he waited until the door had opened enough for him to confirm that it was, in fact, Link exiting before he shoved himself from the wall and rushed the doorway, pushing Link back in as he entered, latching and locking the door behind him.

The frosted glass on the door let much of the lounge’s noise through, cloaking them in this respite from its vivid ambience.  They could have easily spoken over the muffled din, but Link’s lopsided grin and arched eyebrow told Rhett all he needed to hear.  

Rhett took a step forward, and at first, Link stepped back, his instincts seemingly telling him to give Rhett room.  He laughed once at his thoughtlessness, then retraced that step and more, moving into Rhett’s face, accepting the invitation to invade his space.  Rhett felt the hair at the back of his neck raise when Link narrowed his eyes and angled his head to the side, examining the face looking down at him, deciding exactly what he wanted to do with it.  But Rhett’s muscles protested such standing still.  They wanted to lunge, to grab and hold, envelope and manipulate, and he was in no condition to deny them.  

His right hand wrapped around the back of Link’s neck in the same instant his left arm wound around his lower back, drawing his entire body into a kiss that they enjoyed more than they knew how to process.  These moments happened from time to time, little flickers of disbelief at how much fun they could have together, how good they could feel, even three decades in.  They laughed out of the contact, foreheads pressed together as they shared slow, sloppy smiles.  Link circled his arms around Rhett’s neck, letting himself lean and sway in something distantly reminiscent of a dance, confident that Rhett would catch him if he fell.  And he nearly did, his foot slipping out from under him on the slick tile floor.  When it did, Rhett’s hold tightened, his body several seconds ahead of his brain as he directed a helplessly laughing Link backward until his back hit the heavy pedestal sink.  Caught between Rhett and the cold porcelain, Link accepted another invitation and climbed Rhett’s body in order to perch at the edge of the fixture.  When Link had found his balance, Rhett stepped back and took the sight in, admiring the feat and the limbs that accomplished it.  Link stretched his legs out in triumph, but when Rhett tried to laugh, he was silenced by a violent grip on his shirt drawing him forward into another kiss.  The vibrations of a quiet groan rose through Link’s jaw and travelled into Rhett’s body, warming him and igniting a fresh craving for more.  In search of the sound, he drew Link’s lower lip into his mouth, tracing its length with the tip of his tongue and finding hints of juniper along the way.  He pulled back, tasting his own lips, smacking them softly.  Link’s gaze darted between Rhett’s lips and eyes, the question evident.

“You.  You taste like Christmas,” Rhett said, snickering at the new drawl to his words before recognizing them as Link’s own.

Link chuckled.  “And now, so do you.  What’re we doin’ here, McLaughlin?”

Before Rhett could answer, their attentions were piqued by the sound of Rhett’s name amplified over the muffled din of the crowd beyond the door.  Link’s eyebrows shot up in question, but Rhett silenced the thought with another kiss.  They heard his name called once more before another took its place.

“Didn’t want to miss my chance,” Rhett murmured against Link’s mouth.  Link hummed in reply.  Rhett gripped Link’s jaw with both hands, then allowed his fingers to weave back into the damp hair at the base of his head. He ducked his head low and trailed his lips down Link’s throat. He could smell sweat at his collar, brought on by booze and crowded spaces, adrenaline and arousal, and he knew he was in a similar condition.  But despite the heat, goosebumps rose on his skin when Link’s breath passed over his ear as it had when he’d whispered to him in the booth.  This time, words were replaced with hot, open breath, a shameless pant rising in Link’s chest as Rhett tasted the salt on his throat with his tongue.

“What’s the plan here, big guy?” Link whispered through his labored breath.  Rhett whimpered, then sighed.

“Let’s not finish out the night by getting arrested.”  He allowed his lips to travel back up and over neck and jaw until they returned to Link’s lips which opened for him again.  They shared slow, open kisses in parting, then Rhett gripped his waist and gently lifted him up and off the edge of the sink and back to his feet.  “Shall we?”

  


 

 

"Why didn't we wait inside?  This was dumb," Link said mostly to himself, pulling a fur-lined hood over his head and shifting his weight from foot to foot.  Rhett laughed at him and pulled his own coat tight, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air and keeping the answer to himself.

He'd led them out of the lounge suspecting that their driver was still minutes away in hopes of letting the low temperature sober him up.  Long after they’d left the bathroom, he'd found himself leaning into Link, finding reasons to bring their faces within inches of each other in hopes that just once, they would chance eye contact and confirm that they were on the same enticing wavelength.

He knew how he wanted the night to end, but unless they were already wound around each other, talking about it with Link was impossible.  He flirted and teased Rhett to the brink of madness, but openly discussing their fondness for each other’s private company was never on the table.  In the safety of public space, Link would shut the topic down, pretend he didn’t know what Rhett wanted, and be surprised when they collided later, in dark and private rooms that could barely contain their fire.  

Talking about it would only set Link on edge, but caught in the red light and loud music, all Rhett wanted to do was talk about it.

So he'd taken his spiraling mind outside into the frosty air where it could shiver itself straight.  And as they idly passed down the sidewalk toward the street corner, Link let his mouth go, rambling on in another aimless spiel that Rhett was happy to entertain.

"I'm just saying, I like the white tiles as much as the next guy, but they just don't seem like they get clean.  Just a couple footprints, which are bound to happen in the winter, and the whole bathroom looks dirty.  I liked that place.  But you know...the bathroom could have been cleaner.  And maybe better lit."

"You don't want bright lights in a bar bathroom."

"Why not?  I feel like that's the one place I really need to see what I'm doing."

Rhett shook his head, straightening his back as their car approached.  "It's sobering.  You don't want to see yourself that well in the mirror."

"What?  Why?  What's on my face?"  Link asked, suddenly pushing his hood back and patting his cheeks and lips with the back of his hand.  Rhett laughed again and nodded to the car stopping in front of them, reaching for its door and holding it open for Link.

"Nothing.  Your face is fine.  That's not what...get in."

Link frowned and climbed into the back seat, sighing dramatically as the heat hit his ankles.  As Rhett slid in behind him, he quickly realized that Link had opted to stay in the center of the bench seat.  Knowing what was coming, he slipped his scarf from his neck and bunched it up on his shoulder, just in time for Link's head to rest backward on it.  Link pulled his bent knee up onto the seat and turned to face the far window, leaning on Rhett's arm casually, easily, as if this kind of piling on top of one another was a daily occurrence.  Rhett directed their driver to take them back to their hotel, speaking quietly so as not to interrupt Link's train of thought.

As they rode through dark streets, Rhett shifted his posture, lifting his arm and resting it along the top of the seat.  This caused Link to lie against his chest, a change he hardly seemed to notice, let alone mind.

"You remember that gaming bar we went to in Silver Lake?  With the pinball machines?"

Rhett nodded, adding, "And ski-ball, if I recall."

"And ski-ball, which I dominated.  I beat everyone, I'm pretty sure," Link bragged.

"Oh, that's a nice way for you to remember it," Rhett said, stroking Link’s hair in a gesture that matched his patronizing response.  But when the words ended, his fingers kept moving, combing through a pair of loose knots then searching idly for more.

"The walls of that place, with all the writing.  Too much.  Also unclean feeling," Link recalled, saying nothing of the hand in his hair, but rather, sliding down an inch to make it easier for Rhett to reach.  "Like if I had to pick the place most likely to give me hepatitis, that'd probably be it."

Rhett laughed and heard Thomas do the same, making him glance at the rearview mirror and smile to himself at finding their driver's eyes glued to the road.

"Oh, turn this up," Link then said, rolling his head side to side to the growing sound of a catchy beat.  Rhett pulled his hand back, resting his own head in it as he watched streets pass out the far window, Link a dancing, humming blur in the bottom of his periphery.  His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, hard to move and increasingly unpredictable as the last of their drinks was only just reaching his bloodstream, so Rhett let it lie still and let Link make all the noise.


	2. Of Dissonance

Link stumbled as he stepped from the car, chuckling at his clumsiness.  Before he even realized that Rhett had appeared next to him, he felt the man’s hand come up under his elbow, steadying him, and they continued on into the hotel lobby.

They’d chosen a hotel about a twenty-minute drive from the venue in the hope of gaining them some privacy and avoiding fans in town for the show.  Link slipped into the automatic rotating door only to have it stop inexplicably with him trapped inside.  Through the glass he could see Rhett laugh as he strode through the standard door and waited, smirking, as Link’s prison began to rotate again and free him.

Once inside, Link flipped back the heavy, fur-lined hood of his coat.  Even as the noise of the city vanished behind them, the lobby was alive with patrons coming and going from the attached restaurant to the left of the entrance, guests mingling at and around the bar just to the right of the check-in counters, and the lively music hanging in the air just beneath the level of murmured conversation.  Link’s eyes were bright, alcohol still coursing through his veins, and he chattered on about the decorations in the lobby—long, dangling strings of silver blown-glass bubbles lit from above.

“Rhett! Look at those! Are they jellyfish?”

Rhett chuckled but didn’t respond.

“My legs feel like I’m underwater.”

“Keep paddling, brother.”

Link was headed for the elevators and didn’t notice at first that Rhett had veered past them at the last moment.  When he realized that his friend was no longer beside him, he glanced around the corner and saw Rhett climbing the three steps toward the back of the hotel.

“Hey!” he called as he caught up to him.  “Where we goin’?”

Rhett dipped his head in the direction of the rear glass doors ahead of him.

“It’s cold out there, man! We just got here!” Link protested.

“Aren’t you warm from all that booze you took down?”  Rhett walked past a small revolving door and opened a standard glass one, letting Link walk through it safely.

Link slapped Rhett’s arm with the back of his hand as he crossed back into the cold.  “Come on!  You had as many drinks as I did.  Ain’t you feelin’ anything?”

With a whoosh the door swung shut behind them.  The hum of the city was still present on this side of the hotel but not as intrusive as it had been at the main entrance.

“Yeah, I’m feelin’ it,” Rhett answered finally.  “I’m just not as keyed up as you.”  Link laughed, unable to deny the observation.

Across the small street that wrapped behind the hotel was a wide, open stairwell which wound down in a spiral that tightened as it went.  The snow was falling around them, dusting the stairs and the railings they gripped for stability against the dizziness in their brains, the vibration just strong enough to keep them warm.  Link felt the stillness of the space begin to quiet him as they descended.

He followed Rhett’s lead to a park that sat across the road from the bottom of the staircase.

“How’d you know this was here?” Link asked.

Rhett shrugged, a pleased grin on his face as he sauntered on.  A path led them past a large rectangular fountain that was turned off for the winter, the imagined sound of rushing water replaced by the crunch of snow beneath their shoes.  Link tangled his fingers in the sleeve of Rhett’s coat when he stumbled again, but Rhett’s eyes remained upward as his gaze tracked the strings of lights that ringed the trees around them.  He stopped walking when they reached a small fenced-in area in the center of the park.  They stood together taking in the lights and the falling snow.

“It’s quiet here,” Link said, and the sudden sound of his words drew Rhett’s eyes back down.  In the hush of the park, they could hear the snowflakes settling on the iron bars of the fence and the ground around them.  Rhett’s eyes crinkled as he looked down at Link, and he reached out to steal a snowflake from the man’s dark hair, no longer covered with the hood he’d worn earlier.  When the flake had melted on Rhett’s fingertip, his eyes were drawn back to Link’s snow-flecked strands.  Link watched as the gaze traveled downward, meeting his blue eyes lit with the Christmas lights, then finally down to the curve of his lips.

“Hey,” Link said, interrupting the stillness again.

“Hey yourself.”

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Rhett’s eyes were soft when he smiled.  But when he didn’t answer, the corners of Link’s lips began to dip down.

“You’re so quiet tonight.  Something wrong?”

Rhett shook his head.  “Just enjoying the view.”

The words hung in the air and drifted down with the snow, landing slowly.  Link shook his head and pressed his lips back up into a grin.  “You didn’t know this park was here.”

Rhett chuckled.  “Lucky guess.”

“I knew it.”

In the quiet that followed, it seemed the cold had seeped into the gears of the world, slowing it to a crawl that was dangerously easy to watch.  Link let himself be transfixed by the flakes decorating Rhett's scarf before dragging his attention back to Rhett's face, smiling at the traces of white peppering his dark brows.  For a moment, he did not notice the eyes staring back at him, nor the obvious affection they conveyed.  But when he did meet Rhett's gaze, he flinched, stricken by something pure and unsure how to conduct himself in its presence.

"Why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, playfully frowning and turning toward an iron bench further down the sidewalk.  Rhett followed closely, the thud of each footfall digging into Link's buzz and trying to drag it down.  

Link reached the bench and clung to it like the Home Bases of their childhood.  As long as he had one hand on the thick black metal, his hazy mind wanted to believe, the intensity of Rhett's gaze could not reach him, could not make him acknowledge that there was something more than colored bulbs and a playful spirit lighting them up.  So he stretched his arm along its backrest and held tight, dropping heavily onto its seat.  A string of lights spiraled around the fence running along its back, and he let himself stare into them until they blurred in his vision.  But when finally he had to blink, he found Rhett standing over him, smiling softly down at his posture, which had started to slouch without his knowledge.

He straightened as Rhett lowered onto the seat next to him, dissolving the safety of his base, but managing to make Link smile anyway.

"You running away from me?" he asked, the slowness of his words confirming the promise he'd made a few minutes back: he was feeling all of the night's toasts, too.

"My legs are tired.  All those stairs," Link said, testing his muscles with a bounce of his knees to determine for himself whether he was even lying.

"You won't let me look at you."

"What, you want to gaze into my eyes?  Tell me how lovely I am in these lights?  Want me to tell you how much I looove you?"  He drug out the words in an attempt to dismiss them, but he felt betrayed by his sense of humor when Rhett just smiled, lowering his head and shrugging once.

"Maybe I do."

At this, Link rolled his eyes and made a show of facing Rhett.  He turned his back to the armrest, let it dig into his coat and press uncomfortably into his spine, brought his bent knee up onto the seat between them, and exhaled a puff of steam as he looked up into Rhett's face.  In the glow of the colored lights, it was incredibly easy to look at.  Link could feel the familiarity built over decades of contact, let himself float in the warmth of their bond, the light of all their private jokes, the security of an oath made as children and repeated in new ways every day since.  And if he let himself sit in it, dwell in this connection that went miles deep, he could feel all the kinetic parts of his insides start to go still and the perpetual humming of a ceaseless mind start to quiet.  It was a thrilling, terrifying sort of high, but even at its strongest, he could never escape the knowledge of what he was suspended over.  So he broke its spell as he always did, with a dismissive half-smile and a look at his hands.  He inhaled deeply, feeling as if he'd forgotten to breathe in the hours he'd just spent staring into Rhett's gentle eyes, then shook his head and sighed.

"There it is."

"What?" Link asked, crossing his arms and only pretending it was for warmth.

"The sigh.  You're always sighing at me."

"Whatever."

The childish response made Rhett sigh then, and Link rolled his shoulders at the sudden feeling of deflation in his chest.  A moment had come and passed, a flicker of magic cut short by his own unconscious responses.  The guilt made him itch.  He swallowed hard and started to stand, trying to force himself out of Rhett's magnetic field.

"What are we even doing out here?  I'm going inside."

He'd taken several steps back toward the hotel before he heard Rhett response: "I just thought it'd be nice."  There was plenty going unsaid in the answer, and it raised his hackles.

"Freezing to death in an abandoned dog park?  Sounds great."

"Stop," Rhett commanded, managing to catch Link off guard with the authority in his voice.  So Link stopped, despite his urge to flee to the safety of his own warm, dark, and private hotel room.  He turned and flinched, surprised to find that Rhett had gained on him and now stood within arm's reach.  His voice softened in the proximity.

"I thought it'd be nice to just...come down a little.  I wanted to be out here for the same reason I wanted to get out of the bar.  I just thought, you know, we'd had this amazing day, we'd had a blast at that lounge.  We've been on this wavelength, man.  I know you've felt it.  We've been plugged into each other.  It's awesome."

Link had to agree; he'd felt the charge behind their glances all evening.  He'd been feeding off of Rhett's laughter, drawing strength from his knowing smiles and returning them with devilish interest at every opportunity.

"Let's be real," Rhett continued.  "We knew how tonight was ending the second we stepped out of the theatre."  Link's eyes darted from Rhett's chest to his face, finding that it had softened, eyes giving away the smile that was fighting for his lips.  "We knew we'd be paying for two rooms when we'd only use one."

Link felt himself scowl, but he lost his fire at the sound of Rhett's soft laugh.  Rhett reached for him, wrapping his fingers gently around Link's bicep, the touch deadened by the thickness of his coat.

"Don't be mad.  It's true and you know it.  And I love it.  I love that I can feel it coming," Rhett spoke even more quietly, starting to lean in closer but stumbling as Link took a step back.  He straightened and exhaled another laugh.  This one made Link shiver.  "What's wrong with talking about it?  Why's it always have to feel like such a shock?  Why do we have to do that?  Act like that?"

"I don't know," Link started, fully intending to finish with 'what you're talking about,' but losing the words in his throat, changing his response completely.  He heard it, felt the sense of vulnerability rolling in like a fog, and stuck out his chin to fight it.  "You're reading into something that isn't there, man.  I don't know what you're going on about, but I'm tired," he sighed, turning again toward the hotel and catching a glimpse of Rhett's face darkening behind him.

They walked in sync, a few steps apart, back toward the concrete staircase that promised to exhaust Link on his way back up.  He suspected that even in this frosty air, he might break a sweat beneath his coat, and his thoughts went careening through all the terrible things that could happen to a person wearing wet clothes in cold air.  It hardly mattered that he was only yards away from a climate-controlled lobby, minutes away from the safety and comfort of his own hot shower and dry clothes—

"You really like to circumvent anything emotional, don't you?" Rhett called, interrupting his senseless train of thought, motivating him to walk faster.  "You just want to lie there and enjoy the sex."  Despite himself, Link smirked at the images the accusation drug forth.  "You just want to keep getting off without engaging in anything deeper, just pretending _that_ part doesn't exist.  Like it's an inconvenience.  Which makes sense, I guess.  That's how selfish lovers operate."

The words hit Link's buzz like a bullet, piercing what was left of his protective haze and dragging him into a stinging reality, where he was stricken speechless and frozen in place, having stopped walking the second Rhett had gone quiet again. He turned once more, driven by a fire that was snuffed out the second he looked into Rhett's face.

"I'm sorry," Rhett blurted out at the moment of eye contact.  His eyes were wide, and Link recognized a blend of fear and regret on his face that normally made him sympathetic.  This was the look that drew Link near, caused him to cheer Rhett on, comfort and bolster him in the face of whatever opposition or mistake was threatening him.  But tonight, the expression of shock repulsed him.  His mouth twisted into a deceptive grin as Rhett rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, dredging up a stronger apology.  "I didn't mean that.  I shouldn't have said that.  I'm sorry."

Link shook his head and shrugged, dismissing the accusation as if it rolled right off of his shoulders and didn't sink like a knife between his ribs.  He said nothing.

"Let's just...we should get some sleep.  I think we may have overdone it tonight," Rhett suggested, laughing sheepishly and watching Link for confirmation.  He nodded, causing Rhett to do the same, but kept his mouth shut still.

Link turned from Rhett for the third time and felt his face grow warm, an inexplicable flame having sparked in his chest and licked up his neck in red, angry streaks.  As his legs carried him toward the stairs, his fingers worked at the buttons of his coat and pulled it open, all fear of the cold air long forgotten.

His silence curled around him and hovered, an invisible barrier holding the outside at bay and stopping a slew of acidic retaliations from ever reaching his tongue.  It followed him up the turns of the slickening steps, across the narrow street, along the sidewalk, and back through the hotel's door. It settled between him and Rhett, holding them at a cold distance as Link typed '15' into the elevator's keypad and waited for the screen to tell him which of the six cars to board.  He cursed the machine as it told Rhett to share his ride, even though his room was thirteen floors above Link's.

They leaned into opposite corners of the elevator, and Link closed his eyes in an attempt to keep a neutral face.  But beneath the half-formed objections and pangs of truth still burning his eyes, he knew that the evenness of his face itself was giving him away.  He didn't care.  He was just ready to let the night die.

Link felt the car slow, knowing it would soon arrive at his floor.  He opened his eyes to watch it do so and found himself hoping for either one of them to break the silence, to speak over the quiet music, clear his throat.  He would even have taken one of the problematic sighs as a sign of life, a signal that they would not meet in the lobby in the morning as the same wounded, petty people they were now.  But the silence wore on, a punishment for both of them, so Link gathered what pride he could and hardly waited for the doors to open fully before darting out of them.


	3. Of Harmony

Rhett had barely opened his mouth to speak when he realized he was seeing the back of Link’s dark hair as he blew through the elevator doors.  He let his mouth hang open to call after him, reaching out to grab his shoulder before he stopped himself.

_He’s pissed._

Of course he was.  Why wouldn’t he be?  It was possible that what Rhett had said was true, but it was also possible that it had been inflated by the heat of the moment and the alcohol muddying his brain.  And even if it were true, was it necessary to say it?  It was fair that Link was mad.  He would need some time to cool off, sleep off the booze and the high of the night.  They’d be alright in the morning.  They always were.

The soothing voice of the elevator announced its arrival at his floor, and Rhett stepped out, running his hand into his wavy hair as he strode with long steps to his room at the end of the hall.  He struggled to hold his keycard steady at the lock, but after two failed attempts, the green light pinged on and the latch released.  Once safely across the threshold, Rhett jumped when the heavy door slammed behind him, and he cursed under his breath.  Then the silence of his room swallowed him up.

In the early days of their career, Link and Rhett had always shared a room.  They’d had to; they’d quit their steady jobs to try their hand at the entertainment business, and it was some time before their new career became lucrative enough that they didn’t need to scrimp to make ends meet.  It had been luxurious when they’d finally decided they could afford to book separate rooms when they traveled, but they had almost always booked them close to one another—next door if possible.  But another big event in town had meant a booked-up hotel, and the only rooms available on this particular night were several floors apart.  Rhett wondered when Link had last felt so far away.

He flipped on the radio to drown out the silence, settling on something modern and poppy that he didn’t quite recognize but didn’t mind too much.  Crossing the room, he pulled the curtains shut and began to strip off his clothes, not stopping until he was in only his boxers with the rest heaped at his feet.  He scooped them up and tossed them in the general direction of his overnight bag.

The gift of fame had been a blessing and a curse.  Rhett smiled as he imagined Link flitting around their shared room, chattering and filling the space with his unhindered enthusiasm.  He didn’t fault Link for occasionally getting too caught up in the rush of accolade—Rhett knew he did it too—but he could feel keenly in this moment how that fame had cost them more than just the forced intimacy of shared hotel rooms.  It was all too easy to forget that Rhett and Link were more than a brand.  They had been more, would always be more, than the public eye could contain for them. And to get lost in the elation of being known and loved by the crowds made it easy to forget that they were first and foremost known and loved by each other.

Rhett’s eyes glazed over as he stared at his face in the bathroom mirror, lulled by the rhythmic sound of his toothbrush scrubbing away the day’s meals and, perhaps more importantly, the remaining flavors of its drinks.  But in the thoughtless process, he shook his head at himself.  It had been a good day. Both shows had gone off without a hitch, they’d had a chance to unwind and celebrate together, and then he’d gone and ruined it by insulting the very character of the person he loved most in the world.

The self-loathing that crept in was too much, and his instincts responded, desperate to bolster his integrity.  Harsh as the accusation may have been, it was true that Link deflected his feelings.  There was no denying that.  When they collided, it was Rhett who tried to pepper words of affection between kisses trailed down Link’s body.  But Link shushed him, cut him off with a shot of eros into the moment that stopped the words short on Rhett’s lips.  They were friends, brothers, business partners.  Then, occasionally, there was more.  Heavy sounds in the dark, sighs and gasps, shuddering groans and skin against skin, but never words.  Link made sure of that.

But what were the words Rhett would say if he could?  Would he tell him he loved him?  That he would die for him?  He’d said it all before.  But to mean it, to not only feel it, but to show it, meant to lay down his pride.  Selfish lover or not, Rhett loved Link, and he’d be damned before he’d let the man go to sleep with any reason to doubt that fact.

He barely remembered to grab his room key before he was out the door, wholly unconcerned with the fact that he wore nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, bare feet padding with determination across the hall carpet.  If Rhett was lucky, Link would still be awake.  When he reached the elevators, Rhett punched in the number ‘15’ and waited for the car that would carry him down, his fingertips tapping anxiously against his bare thighs, until the doors opened and revealed the startled face of his best friend.

A flash of self-consciousness saw itself echoed on both of their faces, but Link regained control faster, his wide-eyed stare narrowing to a confident smirk.  Rhett watched Link’s ribcage lift with his chin before he strode through the elevator doors, passing his friend by without a word.  The apology had been ready on Rhett’s tongue, but the sway of Link’s hips as he swaggered down the hall told him he expected it, welcomed it even.  Rhett followed, but he wasn’t about to cave beneath Link’s seduction that easily.  Not this time.

  
  
  


 

Link stopped when he reached Rhett’s room and stood patiently as Rhett held his card to the lock.  When it unlatched, Rhett pressed the door open and motioned in invitation for Link to enter ahead of him, and he did, the knowing grin still painted across his face.

They stared each other down, frozen in the entryway of the room.  Rhett was hard to see, hidden from a sconce’s soft glow that could not turn the corner.  Alone in the light, Link felt the pressure to speak first and buckled, surrendering to his love for holding an audience.  

“I have to assume you had something to say,” he began, the gravel in his voice initially surprising him, but quickly making sense when he thought of how much he’d been talking, singing, yelling, laughing.

“Same.”

Link stiffened as he recognized Rhett’s resolve.  His outpouring of emotion and need to make things right seemed to have hardened into something else, something more combative and less apologetic, at the sight of Link in the elevator.  And yet, even from his place in the shadows of the room, Rhett couldn’t hide the smile trying to pull at his lips.  

“Okay,” Link eventually sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning toward the open room.  “I thought about coming up here,” he said, drawing the words out as he sank onto the end of the bed, “and showing you, beyond a shadow of a doubt…” Before he finished the thought, he leaned backward, yawning himself out over the length of the bed, hands raising over his head when Rhett stepped into the light to watch.  “...just how unselfish I can be.”  

Rhett smiled and sighed, shaking his head as his eyes fell to the floor.  “Yeah.  I was afraid of that.”

“Afraid, huh?  It scares you?” Link asked, taking the opportunity to pick at Rhett in order to avoid the rest of his own confession.

“No.  It doesn’t scare me.  It...irks me.  That you’re always...you’re always jumping right to—”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Link interrupted, quickly realizing he didn’t have another spat in him.  He pushed himself up, ending a joke that hadn’t worked in the first place and looking at his hands as he spoke again.  “I thought about coming up here for that.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t want to default to some line and ‘sidestep everything emotional.’”

“Circumvent.”

Link narrowed his eyes and shook his head, not following Rhett’s lead.  “What?”

“I said you like to ‘circumvent anything emotional.’  I just...I liked the word.  It was a good word.”

“And I’m a bad listener now, because I paraphrased, or…?”

“You were never a great listener, but you got the gist of it.”

Rhett smiled and Link let himself laugh, his shoulders dropping as much of the tension swept out of the room.  He knew how it worked: Rhett’s choice to pick at minutia meant the real weapons were laid down.  They were safe.

“Well, I’m here to listen now.  I won’t duck out of anything you want to say.  And...I’m willing,” he added, pausing to confirm with himself the offer he was making, “to say whatever you need to hear from me.”

Rhett’s head tilted, resting against the corner of the wall.  “I see.”

“Because whatever we want to call this,” Link said, gesturing toward the space between them and all that it represented, “it is _not_ an inconvenience.”

He watched Rhett’s face and could see his inner turmoil, the desire to be catered to battling with his desire to speak and clarify and set things right.  A deep sigh signaled that the latter had won.

“We don’t have to call this anything.  I don’t need any label on it,” Rhett said quietly, moving toward the bed and lowering gently onto its edge.  “I just want to acknowledge that it exists, that it isn’t an accident every time.”

“Okay,” Link replied, letting the notion sink in.  It didn’t have far to go; he already knew that he was inextricably bound to Rhett, that he could not escape his orbit if he tried.  He knew that while their nights together were not inevitable, they were still the result of a natural progression, and that he did not want to deny them their merit, nor lose them to his fear of the unknown.  So instead of letting his trepidation tie itself around his tongue, he pushed himself to speak.  

“It exists.  It’s real, and it’s intentional.  At least, it is on my part.”  He narrowed his eyes until Rhett nodded in his own admission.  “I also like when I can feel it coming,” he continued, lowering his eyes to watch his own hand drag across the bedspread.  “I just also like the game of it.  I like pretending to be surprised, acting like it isn’t normal for us to do what we do, because it isn’t.  It just isn’t normal for people to be as lucky as we are.”

Rhett cleared his throat and straightened his back, sitting carefully on the bed’s farthest corner, but leaning forward to listen to Link’s voice as it grew quieter by the second.  When he next spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“But here we are.”  His eyes raised again, and bore into Rhett’s, their gazes matching in both intensity and curiosity.  “We get to go out on stage and do what we love for people who love our work, love us.  We get to go home to people who want to hear all about it, week after week.  And even with all that confirmation that we’re still doing okay, that we still matter to the people at home and all those people watching from the crowd and from the screen, after awhile, the only person I can really think about is you.  You’re the only one I want telling me that I’m good, that you need me.  There is nothing like it.  So yeah, it’s real.”

Link felt his abdomen relax as the last of his words left his mouth.  There was nothing left to defend, and his body seemed to sense it.  Rhett took his time thinking over his response, but Link saw the criticism as it formed in his knitted brow.  He cut it off just as Rhett opened his mouth, and spoke over the beginning of his reply.

“And I’m sorry.  If I made you doubt that, or made you think I didn’t want it to be real, I wish I hadn’t.  I’m sorry for that.”  

Rhett’s mouth twisted into a grin, and Link couldn’t help but match it, shamelessly proud of his ability to read and respond to Rhett before he could even lodge his complaint.

“So.  You wanted to say something?” Link prodded.  Rhett chewed his lip for a second, then shook his head and smiled softly, shrugging.  

“I think...you said all that needed to be said.  I couldn’t have put it better.”

“That has to be a first.”

They laughed, each still safely clinging to his respective side of the bed.  Link caught Rhett glance at his mouth before dropping his eyes to the plain comforter between them.  With Link’s eyes on him, he sighed heavily and leaned on one long arm, resting his head on his shoulder, opening himself out of the defensive posture he’d held since he’d closed the door behind him.  Link noticed, but he figured he was meant to.  

“So, now that we both agree how real this is...are you gonna let me do something about it, or what?”

“Did you have something in mind?” Rhett asked, slowly raising his gaze toward Link’s face and broadly smiling at the predatory expression he found there.  

“Nothing in particular,” Link answered, pushing himself forward and sighing when his lips pressed to Rhett’s neck.  He savored the connection before whispering into Rhett’s shirt, “I thought I might just figure it out as I go.”

He felt Rhett smile against him, the edges of his beard tickling Link’s cheekbone.  His fingers slid up the length of Rhett’s chest until they found his neck and crawled around its back, combing into the hair at his nape and creeping further upward until Rhett shivered at the short nails moving gently over his scalp.

Link left a trail of soft kisses over Rhett’s jaw as he sought out his mouth, eventually locking their lips together with an intensity only fueled by his grip on the hair in his hand.  He inched further forward on the bed, pushing up onto one knee, raising over Rhett and lifting his chin while tasting the faint mint left on his lips.

They'd tried to drive a wedge between them, hardly realizing in their drunken haze the futility of the act.  In forcing themselves apart, their bodies had locked up, seized with tension as they tried to function alone in anger.  But the closer they came and the more they touched, the weaker the tension became, dissolving out of their muscles, leaving them soothed and warm.  In search of further relief, Link pulled at Rhett's shirt, inching it upward until Rhett broke their kiss to peel it off himself.  His eyes met Link's, then looked down at his chest expectantly, causing Link to smile before standing and removing his glasses, setting them on the dresser across from the foot of the bed.  With his back to Rhett, he began untying the drawstring on his pants and spoke quietly.

"You'd better be lying on that bed when I turn around."

The sound of Rhett's voiceless laugh preceded the rustle of blankets that signaled he was doing as he was told.  Link waited until Rhett had settled to pull off his own shirt, hardly rushing through the act once he knew he had Rhett's attention.  The white shirt dangled from his fingertips for a suspended second before dropping to the floor.  He turned and found his captive audience grinning at him, encouraging him to tug down the waistband of his pants until they piled at his ankles.  In two fluid strides, he stepped out of them, approaching the bed in only his tight, dark underwear.

He rested his hands gently at the insides of Rhett’s ankles, using no pressure but making his directive clear; Rhett’s legs shifted apart, giving Link some room between them.  He bent at the waist and walked his hands up the bed, raising his eyes to watch Rhett’s face as he pulled down his boxers, dropping them on the floor.  Rhett’s legs bent as they instinctively separated, forming mountain-high peaks and a valley that Link could make his home.  He painted the fair skin of Rhett’s inner thighs with kisses, listening to the subtle change in his breathing each time his lips dipped downward.  From the corner of his eye, Link could see Rhett’s stomach tighten and relax at the graze of his faint stubble.  He brushed his cheek across the same space of Rhett’s leg and saw that the more contact he made, the more Rhett’s muscles clenched, trying to draw him in, begging for something more to respond to.  Link suppressed a smile as he guided Rhett’s right knee down to the bed, then lowered his lips to the protrusion of a hipbone, planting a single soft kiss there before dragging the tip of his tongue down its length, letting Rhett writhe around him.  But it was only when Link flattened his tongue and pressed it fully into the crease of his leg that Rhett uttered a helpless prayer and reached for him.

The touch was gentle, a soft combing of desperate fingertips through cool hair, but it was not allowed.  Link took Rhett by the wrist and planted his arm flat against the bed over his head.  

“Don’t use these,” he ordered, before dropping to meet Rhett in a kiss that took the edge off his command.  He spoke the rest of his thought into the corner of Rhett’s jaw.  “I’ll do everything.”

When he drew back this time, Link took Rhett with him.  He wound his hands around Rhett’s thighs and pulled, dragging him to the foot of the bed as a peal of Rhett’s laughter brightened the room.  Link dropped to his knees on the floor, then ran his palms up the lengths of the legs cascading down either side of him.  He’d lost interest in teasing, though, and moved to what impatiently waited for him against Rhett’s abdomen.  They both sighed as Link first wrapped his fingers around Rhett.  He wasted little time before replacing them with his lips, stopping to enjoy the sound of hitched inhalations as he swirled a deft tongue over Rhett’s tip before sinking as low as he could, for a single second letting Rhett press into the back of his throat.  

Rhett melted in front of him, spread out across the bed with hands still over his head, teeth bared in a delirious smile as his eyes rolled back.  Link let out a muffled chuckle at the sight, and he allowed the hand not still wrapped around Rhett to slide up his long thigh, over his hipbone and curl into the dip of his waist.  

He gave himself fully over to the task.  Link closed his eyes and focused on his other senses as his head bobbed slowly up and down, tongue curled around the ridges in Rhett’s shaft, his taste deep and musky and warm.  He listened closely to the sounds Rhett made above him, the shallow breaths and whispered expletives punctuated by whimpers and groans.  He began to feel Rhett’s body tensing beneath him, and Rhett’s voice came to him in a harsh whisper.

“Link...stop…”

Link ignored him, determined to bring him to his pleasure, but Rhett’s hand flew to Link’s hair and yanked him off, eliciting a gasp from both of them.

“I told you to stop,” Rhett breathed.

“I wanted you to come.”

“Just…” Rhett panted, willing his body to retreat from the brink.  “C’mere.”  He tugged lightly at Link’s hair still clutched in his fist, and Link crawled up the long body beneath him.  He stretched out against Rhett’s left side, half on top of him, and tasted the kiss he saw waiting for him on Rhett’s lips.

They kissed deeply, wrapped in the warm bliss of the moment.  They were kings of men, still tingling from the adulation of the crowd, yet that joy was eclipsed by the satisfaction of their reconciliation.  This was the proof that they were more than two sides of an ampersand, that they’d always been more than the sum of their parts.

Rhett’s right hand had drifted down Link’s back and was toying with the elastic waistband of his boxers.  Warm fingers slid inside and cupped the flesh beneath, and they grinned against each other’s mouths.

“You’re overdressed,” Rhett murmured.

Link hummed in reply, licking into Rhett’s mouth to quiet him.  But he didn’t resist when Rhett’s other hand reached down to join the first in sliding the dark blue fabric down.  Link pushed up onto his knees to finish the job himself, and when he’d tossed the garment aside, he lowered himself again to Rhett’s chest.  Rhett’s arms wrapped around him in welcome, palms spreading across his back.

“Didn’t I tell you not to use your hands?” Link asked.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“That so?”

Rhett delivered a sound smack to Link’s behind.  “That’s so.”  He held on tight and rolled their  bodies, flipping them over and pinning Link on his back.  Rhett let his weight fall onto Link’s pelvis to hold him there as he leaned down to press his mouth to Link’s throat.

“I appreciate all that you give me,” Rhett whispered against his skin.  “I appreciate all the things we accomplish together.  I appreciate that this is real for you, and that you want to prove it to me.  I believe you.  I don’t think you’re selfish.  I’m sorry I said it.”

Link whined at the pressure on his groin and pressed up against Rhett.  He felt his throat constrict, tightening in anticipation of words he could not predict.  They surprised him as they fell from his lips.

"I just want to give you whatever you want.  Just tell me what you want."  Above him, Rhett stilled, stunned by the sincerity but trying not to show it.  He resumed his tasting of the sides of Link's neck, but not quickly enough to escape Link's notice.

"What?" he asked through a sheepish smile, raking clawed fingers through Rhett's hair.  Under his hand, Rhett shook his head.

"Nothing.  You.  I want you.  And I want you to keep talking to me."

Link sighed a laugh.  This was no small request. In every other realm of his life, he could not shut up.  Here, wound under, around, and all through Rhett, words were always hard to find.

"Okay," he agreed, voice catching and dissolving into a groan when Rhett ground his pelvis down again.  When he suddenly rose, leaving the bed to rummage through the suitcase on the dresser, Link whined again, idly palming himself to the sight of Rhett's back.

"You leave me here to freeze, all alone, exposed and vulnerable...you monster..." he rambled, hips rocking in anticipation of Rhett's return.  When he turned back to face Link, Rhett's brow was arched high, a small plastic bottle held lightly between two fingers.

"It's for your own good," he answered, voice a gruff ghost of the gentle whisper it'd been before.  Link laughed at the line and rubbed his face with his free hand.

"Oh, are we so predictable?"

"Do you miss the romance of a mid-night drugstore run?"

Link rolled his eyes.  "Fine.  Fair point."

Rhett's knees hit the bed between Link's shins and he crawled up the lithe body again, mirroring all the kisses Link had left on him earlier.  "'Prepared' doesn't mean 'boring.'  There’s still plenty of room—" he murmured before sinking his teeth deeply into the flesh of Link's thigh.

"Ah! Oh, God!" Link yelped, tensing under the bite before letting himself float in the adrenaline rush.

"—for surprise."

He was still smiling, staring at the ceiling dumbly and catching his breath when Rhett's slick fingers closed around him, pumping him slowly, drawing out the squeeze and release of each stroke as much as he could until Link's hips started rolling of their own accord.  Rhett was receptive; he caught the rhythm that Link wanted to set and went with it, waiting until his eyes slipped closed to cup him, tugging gently with his left hand on what he couldn't stroke with his right.

Link hummed himself into a broader smile, bottom lip slipping between his teeth for a few breaths before he heard himself speaking again.  "Yeah," he said, as if he was answering a question.  "Yes.  Yesss."

"What's that?" Rhett asked, grip growing firmer to draw something clearer from Link.

"I'm ready.  Whatever you want, I'm ready."  His eyes shot open as he spoke the words, and pushing himself up onto his elbows, he met Rhett's gaze with a fire of his own.  The sight of Rhett's hands so expertly working him sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through him.  When one slid downward, out of sight and into him, his head lolled back, his knees instinctively drawing up and apart as his body begged for more.

 "God," he said to the ceiling, drawing out the invocation, jaw dropping open when Rhett's finger curled inside him, igniting embers that glowed through his insides.

"You like that?" Rhett asked, pulling back before pressing more deeply into Link, causing him to shudder before he could answer.

"Not really," he said as flatly as he could, too quickly laughing at his own joke and dropping flat onto his back again. He sucked air through his teeth as Rhett withdrew his finger and popped open the bottle again.  And even with his eyes closed, Link knew what was happening.  He could visualize the glassy drops pooling in Rhett's palm seconds before they met his heated skin.  He could picture the twitch of Rhett's nose as the cold liquid hit him, could sense just when the soft grimace would loosen into a hungry grin.  

Eyes still closed, Link clenched his jaw at the familiar, pleasant sting as Rhett entered him. They both released a groan of relief, and Rhett stilled, giving them each a moment to settle into the sensation. Only once Link relaxed into a long sigh did he begin to move again, resting the side of his face against Link’s as he found his way into a languid rhythm.  Link’s brow knitted at the pace; it did not take long for him to find it teasing and tortuous.  Every little breath that Rhett forced out of him chipped away at the wall his defensive nature had tried to build between them.  He wanted to level it, to salt the earth beneath it, and run full-force toward oblivion, his body intertwined with Rhett’s.  He curled his hips upward to tell Rhett so, clawed his fingers against Rhett’s shoulderblades, and wrapped a leg around his back to spur him on.

And it worked, for Rhett sensed the urgency in the breathless kisses that were soon planted on his neck and the hands that grew frantic as they roamed his skin, trying to touch all of him at once.

“Oh my god, Rhett…” Link said into his shoulder.  Rhett straightened his arms, pushing himself up to look down into Link’s face.

“Yeah?” he asked, failing to hold back a smirk.

When their eyes met, Link’s tongue wanted to fall still again.  But he pushed away the familiar urge in order to give Rhett the words he’d said he wanted.

“This is...amazing,” he whispered, groaning again when Rhett sank particularly deep.  His own reaction made him smile, but he held Rhett’s gaze, breathing through an intensity that would have once made him turn away.  “I love this,” he eventually added, sucking in a ragged breath when he was rewarded with Rhett’s hand slipping between their bodies and taking a firm hold of him.  “Oh my god, I love this.  I love you,” he said, finding a little pleasure in just saying the words and much more in seeing how they melted Rhett from within.  

Their pace quickened again until they were fighting for enough breath to speak.  

“I love you, Rhett.  I love you,” Link repeated until Rhett lowered once more, releasing Link and hiding his face in the crook of his neck as his arms began to tremble.  It was just after Rhett let out a telling whimper of his own that Link heard himself speak again, giving a command that he’d never given before.

“Come for me, Rhett,” he ordered, voice strained and desperate.  

He did not have to repeat himself.

Rhett’s arm wrapped around Link’s back, lifting him from the bed just slightly, causing his own arms to stretch around Rhett’s back.  Held fast to Rhett’s chest, Link felt the heat in his stomach break loose, rushing through his limbs until his toes curled and his fingers splayed, sensing Rhett’s heartbeat through his back as he shuddered.  

They’d met each other in euphoria, sharing a precious few seconds of an ultimate bliss, and once there, the need for voices was gone.  Instead, they simply breathed, drifting back to Earth in a warm and welcome silence.

 

 

Rhett had let Link find his own comfortable place in the bed, waiting until he settled onto his back with his head on Rhett’s pillow, before he drew the sheet up over their legs and curled into Link’s side.  Link smiled from the edges of sleep at the tickle of a soft beard grazing his chest as Rhett’s head settled on his shoulder.  The arrangement would never last, Link knew; Rhett’s feet dangled from edge of the bed and his back curved at an odd angle to accommodate his arm, but for time being, Link let himself revel in the feel of Rhett clinging to him.

He’d nearly dozed off when he felt Rhett smile against his skin.  Link waited for an explanation, but it did not come.

“What?”

Rhett shook his head and shimmied in closer.  

“What are you smiling about?” Link asked again, cupping the back of Rhett’s head in an empty warning.

Rhett turned his mouth from Link’s chest to ensure he spoke clearly:  “You said you love me.”

Link rolled his eyes and laughed.  “Are you kidding me?”

“You looove me.  You’re in looove with me, Link.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time.  Decades.  This is...not at all new.”

“Yeah, but you _said_ it,” Rhett replied in a sleepy singsong.  His teasing was cut off by a yawn.

“Okay,” Link said dismissively, giving Rhett’s hair a playfully condescending pat.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Rhett mumbled, quickly losing his fight against sleep.  “It was good to hear.  I like the sound of it.”

Link rolled his eyes before he closed them, only privately admitting to himself that he liked the sound of it, too.


End file.
